Scandinavialog (pics added)

[guigsy]

oh, thats just great! now we're all screwed while you're off galavanting around enjoying scandinavia!

thanks, todd.

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 082906

*note: my roving word processor has crapped out on me, necessitating some rewriting.

Another unintentional early morning this morning, I dragged my carcass out of bed, showered and got the hell outta there. I was in need of nourishment but thought better of it and hit another fast food place. Curiously the salt packets were from Hesburger, which you would think is the competition, though maybe stealing condiments is their way of competing. I had about seven hours to kill before my train so I wandered through the market, did some internetting, emptied my camera onto a disc and sat in the big park in the city's core. I got to the train station and bought a British paper and a sandwich.

I knew my train was at three-something, I thought closer to four, but as I was finishing my sandwich around 3:15 I saw people rushing towards the train at platform eight, where I was to board. I hustled towards the train and almost jumped on the first car I saw. I knew, however, that I was to be in car four so I found a conductor and asked which was the right car. He looked at me funny so I asked if this was the train to St. Petersburg and he said no, this was a local train, mine would be along next and off they went. If I had hopped on that train I would've been hard pressed to discover my mistake and get back to the station in time for my departure. Dodged a bullet.

Though I was travelling 2nd class the train still had those little six-seater booths, just like in the movies. I was the only person in mine and I enjoyed a hell of a ride. Soon a lady came by asking, "Beer, soda, juice?" Budget-minded velvet declined. Then she said, "No money. Beer, soda, juice?" Well in that case I'll take a beer thank-you very much. She gave me a little paper plate, a small dinner roll, a can of Russian beer, and a vacuum sealed package of about twenty slices of salami. Weird but wonderful snack.

With the exception of my trip to Estonia, where my passport was scrutinised and taken into the office both entering and leaving the country, I hadn't seen a border cop or had to show my passport since the Ottawa airport. On the train ride to Russia they took my passport a full three times, and the big upside is customs is done on the train while you wait comfortably in your cabin. At Vyborg we had to disembark for twenty minutes while they switched engines and I met a couple of Australians on a round the world trip. They were in the next cabin and invited me to join them, which I did. Cool guys, good conversation, and wonderful scenery outside the window. A fog was gripping the ground, and it looked like the trees were growing right out of the ominous shroud of mist. It was just so very Russian; mysterious, cold, and engaging.

Close to midnight we pulled into the St. Petersburg station. The Aussies opted for a taxi (1,000 rubles*) while I decided to take the subway (12 rubles). I had heard the St. Petersburg subway was deep, but I was astonished. I literally couldn't see the bottom of the escalator, it must go down over 100 metres or so. Curiously, the platform itself looked like a hallway with a few dozen elevators lining each side. When the train pulled in the doors opened revealing the subway behind it, and then the subway doors themselves opened. When the doors closed they slammed with a prisonish ominousity.

So this is Russia! Hitting Nevsky Prospekt (the main drag) at night was stunning, it seems like an amazing nightlife, bustling and full of people. I found the building that housed my hostel and was immediately struck with sketchiness. When I made it upstairs to the hostel proper (on the fourth and fifth floors) it seemed okay so I guess it'll do.

Found my room and went to bed.

*I think the exchange is around 25 rubles to our dollar.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[phorbesie]

I knew my train was at three-something, I thought closer to four, but as I was finishing my sandwich around 3:15 I saw people rushing towards the train at platform eight, where I was to board. I hustled towards the train and almost jumped on the first car I saw. I knew, however, that I was to be in car four so I found a conductor and asked which was the right car. He looked at me funny so I asked if this was the train to St. Petersburg and he said no, this was a local train, mine would be along next and off they went. If I had hopped on that train I would've been hard pressed to discover my mistake and get back to the station in time for my departure. Dodged a bullet.

hehe i did that once (stayed on the wrong train, which left 2 minutes earlier than mine, ended up in northern holland instead of antwerp). i couldn't understand any announcements...then the train just stopped, out in a field, in the dark. i noticed then i was the only one left on the train...then the lights went out. lol i guess the train had dropped off some cars and then gone. i jumped off and walked about a mile along the tracks to some town and luckily made my way back to amsterdam, spent a lovely night non-sleeping in the station. good times.

i am so jealous you are in russia! wow, it must be so neat.

[Douglas]

I need to read all of these logs again, all at once....and then all over again.

Very nice, Todd.

and thank you

[Velvet]

I'm at the internet cafe at the Hermitage right now taking a little break. This place is staggering.

Today is a lifetime highlight, and it's only 3pm!

[LJFH]

I WISH I was in Russia with you man...that's someplace I've always wanted to go. I heard it is stunningly beautiful.

[Velvet]

Alphasmart is back online!

[Mr. Photogeek]

Finally got around to reading all of your entries...Wow! You are a great writer...maybe someone should be paying you to travel and write about it? Really inspired by your adventures. Maybe I'll even get my ass from behind this computer and travel again!

I've always wanted to go to Russia too. I work with two Russians (well one from Moscow and the other the Ukraine...but lived there during Russian rule). They both get to go back regularly and bring back tons of pictures and stories...I think it is really an underrated country!

[phorbesie]

Munch's stolen "The Scream" recovered in Norway

Link

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 083006

St. Petersburg is a city that was built on a swamp and the mosquitoes haven't left. The little buggers kept me up most of the night; that and the fact that I'm coming down with a bit of a cold. I finally decided to get up and I went upstairs to breakfast, which is included in the price of the hostel. It wasn't much of a breakfast - bread (I haven't had toast since leaving Canada), cheese, yoghurt, juice, coffee, but hell it was way better than nothing.

Met a couple of folks at breakfast; hostel stays are so much more social than campgrounds. Took a shower and retrieved my passport (on your first night in any city in Russia you have to surrender your passport so it can be registered) and went for an orientation walkabout.

St. Petersburg is big, with a capital (and backwards) B. Every street is a study in perspective, each side lined with five-storey buildings that are all connected and fade off into the distance. The blocks are huge, and each one contains a centre courtyard that has invariably been built up with more buildings and shops. The traffic is gnarled, the fumes stifling, and the pedestrian traffic is almost on par with that of NYC. Almost every emergency vehicle I've seen is stuck in traffic with it's lights flashing. The city won't win any awards for cleanliness but it certainly inspires a near-constant state of awe for the newly arrived from every angle.

I made my way to the western tip of Nevsky Prospekt where the Alexander Nevsky monestary is located. On each side of the monestary is a cemetary; to the left is the statesman necropolis, to the right is the artists necropolis. The cemetary housing Russia's noted statesman is a mishmash of monuments, a tributary of tombs, a cramming of crypts, a grand gathering of gravestones (stop me, please), each one unique and fascinating. It's difficult to navigate, as the markers and tombs run into one another leaving barely room to roll over. It's like they expect no more important figures to roll down the pipe. The artists necropolis on the other hand is laid out like a park, and optimistically has room for many more great Russian artists to come. There are markers and statues above the remains of most of Russia's noted poets, writers, architects, mathemeticians, and there's even a famous music and literary critic, whose imposing statue seems to loom over the others in a permanent state of scrutiny. Most interesting (to me anyway) is the composers. Glinka, Mussorsky, Rimsky-Korsakov among others are honored with space there, and at the end of composers alley lies the beautiful monument to that great master of the Romantic era, Peter Illich Tchaikovsky, one of my favourite composers. I sat and admired his grave, whistling excerpts from the 1812 Overture. I even hummed him one of my tunes (not one any of you have heard) as a humble tribute to the man.

Tchaikovsky, like his mother, died of cholera, a disease he feared and attempted to avoid his whole life. Most music scholars agree that he was a homosexual, and after having an affair with a man high up the political ladder he was forced to drink tainted water, giving him the fated disease. It's impossible to fathom how much music we missed out on due to intolerance, or at least because he got caught with his pants down. And there's your music history lesson for the day.

On my way back to the hostel I did something I've been planning on doing since I concieved this journey: I stopped for a Big Mac meal at a Russian McDonalds. Though it was mid-afternoon the place was absolutely packed. The seating area was extensive and full, but I found a seat and ate my slightly-cheaper-than-home meal. The food of course tasted the same, though the Quarter Pounders are indeed called Cheese Royals and the Happy Meal still comes in a box.

Back at the hostel I discovered why it had seemed so sketchy when I first arrived. The lower three floors house a grand puppet theatre, which is currently undergoing extensive renovations. It's too bad; guests at the hostel are normally given free passes to the puppet shows, and I think that would have been interesting. I capped off the evening with a bunch of beers at the nearest pub with a couple of guys from the hostel. Though many establishments (especially those involving alcohol, which are legion) stay open twenty-four hours a day, at 4am or so the bartender kicked us out, explaining, "I cannot make love to my girlfriend on the bar, so I must go home now."

Fair enough.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 083106

Before going out last night I made a point of finding my mosquito repellant and putting it on the nightstand. When I crawled into bed I couldn't find it. The three others were asleep so I felt around on the floor for it to no avail. I pulled the sheet over my head and hoped I was drunk enough to sleep through the buzzing annoyance. Not so. I would fall asleep and roll around tossing the sheet off me and get immediately and frustratingly awakened by the bites. These are city mosquitos and they're fast. I spent the whole night sleeping for two minutes at a time and then waking up to the little fuckers. It was frustrating as hell, and my adled brain devised a plot against me - maybe these guys were annoyed by my inevitable snoring last night and hid my bug juice to keep me from sleeping soundly. In my semi-conscious state I devised many responses to this in the morning, most of which involved violence and/or merciless torture. As the sun rose the mossies went away and I managed a few hours of sleep. When I woke up at 11am I quickly discovered the missing bottle had fallen under my bag and found myself feeling pretty rough as the lack of sleep accelerated my cold. I showered and hopped a bus to the Hermitage.

At the eastern end of Nevsky Prospekt is the staggeringly elaborate complex of buildings known as the Hermitage and Winter Palace. This is widely regarded as possibly the world's greatest art collection, and it is housed in these five remarkable (and physically connected) buildings that alone could draw gapers from around the world. Navigating the 1,057 rooms (!) reveals a stunning and overwhelming history of artistic creation. There is the ancient Egyptian collection, an entire wing of Greco-Roman pieces, two full room (42 works) by Picasso, the Rembrant hall (including Danea, which in 1985 was attacked by a maniac who doused it with sulphuric acid and slashed it twice with a knife), three rooms dedicated to Matisse, several works by Van Gogh, Kandinski, Da Vinci, Monet; it just goes on and on. A single day is by far insufficient for a visit, and there is too much art here to fully appreciate it. It is an overload to the senses, especially when you consider that the walls and floors and ceilings themselves are worthy of constant gaping. I will forever remember my day there as a lifetime highlight. Amazingly enough, one of the greatest art galleries on the planet allows flash photography too.

About halfway through my visit I ran into the American I was hanging out with the previous night and we wandered the halls together until closing. We then spent three hours making our way back to the hostel (about a twenty minute walk) taking in the sights along the way. At my insistence we stopped at the impressive Stroganoff Castle and had dinner in the courtyard. I savoured every bite of my beef stroganoff right were it was created.

When we finally got back I was exhausted and planned on relaxing and turning in early. We ran into our drinking buddy from last night who was on his way to see some live music so I bit the bullet and joined them.

We walked to the bar called Fish Fabrique which was down a small alley and in the basement. Paid the cover (100 rubles) and walked in. The place was small but interestingly decorate with wrought-iron fixtures and the band was rocking out to the thirty-strong crowd. Dressed straight out of early-eighties New Wave, with hair coiffed a la Duran Duran, the four guys with the great name of Stanislovsky tore through a 45 minute set of original music that was reminiscent of U2, The Clash, and The Police. I spoke to them afterward and they are indeed influenced by eighties British music, mentioning The Talking Heads among others. They agreed with my opinion of their potential influences and told me they were fairly busy, playing usually two or three times a month, insisting that this bar has the best sound in all of St. Petersburg. The sound was okay, but certainly nothing to write home about. They have played Moscow as well and find it of course impossible to make any money. I was there when they got paid their 1,000 rubles (about $40, a third of what came in at the door at my count) and they gave my a copy of their cd single, recorded and duplicated at home on a computer. I asked if they were doing another set or if there was another act. They said no, the standard was one band playing less than an hour. I told them about the Canadian norm of multiple sets and maybe two or three hours of music and their eyebrows lifted off their heads.

Back out in the bar a different crowd drifted in while we sat drinking. We hung out with some locals until about 2am and it was great. The guys all agreed that they'd love to move away from Russia, with Australia as the desired location, though they also agreed that it was unlikely to happen to any of them. One guy worked six months on/six months off in the Antarctic, while one of his buddies had just that day returned from his one month on/one month off stint in Siberia. When they cheers around here they really cheers; every glass must clang hard against every other glass, no exceptions. At one point a cheers came around and my glass was empty. One guy poured some of his beer into my glass and I almost choked on it. He said it was traditional honey-beer, and I mean it tasted like three or four tablespoons of honey had been stirred into his ale. It's popular for everyone to share a bottle of wine (also very sweet), and when the bottle is finished tradition holds that the empty vessel is placed under the table. There was soon little room for our feet. The Siberian returnee had a camera and was clicking lots of pictures. At one point he pointed the camera at me and I habitually put on a big smile and raised my middle finger in the playful Hendrick salute. I was immediately reprimanded, and not lightly. It was explained to me that westerners mean about 60% of what they say/do and the rest is tone, whereas Russians mean 100% of what they say. There is no sarcasm and no saying one thing and meaning another, and no matter how lightly I intended my joking gesture it would never be taken as such. I explained how among many of my friends it's a playful symbol of comraderie, and they explained that they understood my intention and did from the outset but it didn't matter, and don't do it again. Don't get me wrong, it didn't get ugly, but the message was clear.

The guys were big music fans and one said hs three dreams were to see Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull, and swim in the ocean. We in the west are lucky I guess, we can dream bigger. I really could have stayed all night but through surprising foresight regarding the unhealthiness of too much beer and too little sleep to my current tentative state I left and got back to the hostel before 3am. Doused my body with repellant and slept solidly long enough to miss breakfast.

This was one of the most fulfilling days of my trip.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 090106

The bug juice was a blessing of the highest degree last night. I slept about eight hours and woke up feeling better than I have in days. I missed breakfast, getting up around 11am, though I could easily have slept longer. I needed to do laundry and that proved difficult. Laundromats are virtually nonexistent here and if I understand it correctly there are only two in downtown St. Petersburg (and only one has dryers), which is, as I've mentioned before, very huge. I made my way to the one with the dryers which was quite a hike and it took so long I didn't get outta there until after 3pm, which effectively killed my touristo plans for the day. One compensation was I decided on a whim to stop into the Nevsky Prospekt cathedral, a massive Romanesque church near the laundry place. It was closed when I saw it the other day, but it was open when I passed by after doing the laundry so I stepped in. There was a wedding going on at the time (I wasn't the only tourist there, so I didn't feel intrusive, or at least as intrusive). High above where I entered the church the choir was singing from a balcony, and the sound in the place was just so damn holy. The wedding party was at the other end of the church, and the priest would say/sing a few words and the choir would come sing back at him. It went back and forth, sometimes to the extent that he would say a word, the choir would sing a word, he would say a word, the choir would say a word; an antiphonal call and response that spanned the length of the room, without missing a beat. The room itself is possibly the most impressive church I've seen on this trip; huge columns topped with decorative curls and faces of angels reaching into the vaulted painted ceilings, every inch of flooring were elaborate frescos, immaculate candle holders; what a great room to get married in.

As I was still way behind in my sleeping hours I went back to the hostel and had a nap that stretched to about three hours, and even then I felt like I could have stayed down for another full eight hours. I forced myself out of bed and went window shopping up and down Nevsky"Prospekt, but as it started to grow dark I headed back to the hostel.

What with the late start, the laundry journey and the elongated nap the day was basically a write-off, and though I leave St. Petersburg tomorrow afternoon I decided not to go out. I bought a couple of beers, hung out a little and hope to get up nice and early tomorrow so I can see a few more sights and maybe buy a couple of souveniers.

The thing is though, even though I did basically nothing today, just walking around this city is an experience. Every street is like a room with a view, and every alley is holds cultural eye-candy. In short, just to be in an unusual environment is an experience unto itself; doing laundry in Russia is still seeing Russia. So I saw Russia today, and by tomorrow night I might never see it again.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 090206

For the first time since arriving in Russia I don't feel underslept. I could still sleep more, mind, but I got almost eight hours last night and my cold has all but subsided. I had breakfast upstairs and packed up my things. Found a post office and literally had to struggle to stuff a postcard into the mailbox. I ultimately had to hold the mailslot open and jam it in between a jumbled stack of letters that were crammed into the box. Then I rushed down to the Church of the Saviour on the Spilled Blood, stopping at the mall along the way to scope out some gifts for my nephews.

Hell of a name for a church, innit? It's officially called the Church of the Resurrection of Christ, but it is much more commonly known by it's nickname, which I suppose comes from the fact that it was built on the spot where Russian Emperor Alexander II was assassinated on March 1st, 1881. Stared two years later and almost twenty-five years in the making, the church is in the old Russian style, with the ice cream cone shaped spires. I humbly take back what I said about the Nevsky Cathedral in yesterday's log; this is one ornate building, and I think it would be hard to beat as far as decorations go. Every inch of the inner walls are covered with frescoes, 7,000 square metres in all, and the arched ceiling are all painted and studded with semi-precious metals and rhodenite depicting biblical scenes. The floors are made up of designs of Italian marble; no doubt this place was built to impress. Amazingly, after 1930 the church was used solely to warehouse potatos, with renovations starting in 1970 in an effort to return the building to it's original state. Twenty-seven years later it was ready to reopen, this time as a museum, though it holds nothing but the church itself. Gorgeous.

I then rushed over to the St. Isaak's Cathedral, though I didn't have time to go in, plus I feared that it would be even more impressive and my senses might start reeling. I did some shopping and as I was running short on time I stopped into Subway for a bite to eat and a beer. Yes, they have beer on tap at Subway, two kinds even, and it's pretty cheap too. Wolfed down the food and scarfed the beer and ran back to the mall to finish my shopping. Made it back to the hostel to grab my bag and then took the metro to the train station, arriving with six minutes to spare. The train started to move as my ass hit the seat.

I'll be in transit back to Helsinki for the rest of the day, and should arrive sometime around 10pm*. Then I'm gonna eat and get back tk good old Ava hotel and rest up for my last day of this journey, and I've got a good one planned.

Overall I found St. Petersburg very beautiful and relatively inexpensive (though not as cheap as I had expected), and it has tons to offer the tourist. I'm sure I barely scratched the surface and I was scrambling to see as much as I could in the last four days. The people aren't necessarily warm, but they are friendly enough, and it certainly can be a party town if you want it to be. I will admit that I was a bit nervous every time I walked out the door, and I was appreciative of company when I went out drinking, but nothing negative happened, nor even a hint of it. I did overhear a guy telling his wifeças they rushed by me on the sidewalk today, "They surrounded me and there was nothing I could do." Almost every time I was leaving a tourist shop the proprieter would tell me to be careful on the streets, and as I would nod and be on my way they would often add, "Really, be careful." Nothing like a little fear injection to inject fear.

Two more days and I'll be home. I miss my girlfriend, and toast.

*edit to add: Mercy! I thought I was sitting alone (this train doesn't have cabins, it's like ours back home), but about and hour into the journey a Finnish guy who has been working the last 40 years in Siberia sat down next to me and talkedandtalkedandtalked without a moments break, I became quite incredulous. He truly couldn't stop for a second. Despite staring blankly at him, not responding, staring out the window, or trying to read my book he would just wouldn't let up. After three hours I had had enough but that was just when Finnish customs had boarded and we all had to stay in our seats until they finished checking everyone, taking another hour. It was excruciating. When we started rolling again I waited until he was mid-story and I got up and ran away and hid in another carraige. He must have gotten lonely because I just saw him in the canteen and he was with two guys. When I walked by he was the only person talking, and the two guys seemed to be all glassy eyed. Now the sun is setting And I'm back to enjoying the St. Petersburg/Helsinki run with a little peace. If he comes back I'll wait until mid-story again and I'll be off.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 090406

The tv in my room has a wake up feature and I set it for 9:45 so I could catch breakfast at the hotel. It went off this morning and I felt like I had just gone to sleep. I laid there and finally convinced my self to get up and it was only 7am. As I had checked in after the staff had gone home last night the tv automatically came on when they came in in the morning and registered me. Grrrr. I finally managed to get back to sleep and before you knew it, bam, it was 9:45. Dragged myself down to breakfast and afterwards I grabbed my boxed bike and all my gear from luggage storage and lugged it up to my room. I spent the next few hours getting my shit together for my flight tomorrow, which leaves at the absurd hour of 6:15am. I had to find packing tape and another box so I was able to merge all my stuff into the bike box, another box, and my carry on. I arranged for a taxi to arrive at my hotel at 4am (you have to check in two hours early for the flight), and unfortunately I'm not assured that the cab can fit my bike in it. Oh well, we'll see how it goes.

I went downtown for a final internet dump, cashed some travellers cheques because I don't know what they're gonna charge me to bring the bike on the plane, and grabbed the ferry to Suomenlinna island for a last little bit of sightseeing.

Suomenlinna island is yet another UNESCO World Heritage site and it's a fort that is actually built on four islands connected by small bridges. Construction began in the early 1700's when Finland was controlled by Sweden, and over the years it's been controlled by Sweden, Russia and Finland, though the size and number of cannons make you wonder how the fort could have fallen to anyone. Today it is home to about 700 Finnish residents and a whole bunch of meandering tourists. You could easily spend all day wandering amongst the granite walls and stone buildings. Most doors are open so one is free to duck into darkened rooms or to traverse caverous hallways, though a flashlight would've facillitated more adequate exploration. The myriad of criss-crossing pathways reveal infinite routes to traverse the islands and around each corner are more hovels and hallways to explore. This place could easily host a World Championship Hide & Seek Tournament. The tallest building is the church, which has a lighthouse on the top, making it the only one of it's kind in the world. The church also houses the largest bell in Finland, cast in Russia (as the church was built under Russian rule) and weighing almost 7,000 kilograms. There is a brewery on one of the islands and of course I dropped by to sample their wares, but unfortunately a town meeting was being held at the brewery's cafe and it was closed to residents only for the day. The upshot is I got on the ferry back to the mainland an hour earlier than planned. I needed to get back to the hotel to prepare for the evening.

When I landed in Turku on my first day in Finland I spotted a poster advertising a concert: The Hellacopters, The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, and The Flaming Sideburns playing at Helsinki's main live music bar on my last night in the city. I immediately hit the 'net to book tickets but couldn't find it on the Finnish ticket site. I emailed the venue (Tavastia) and heard back the next day. The concert was hosted by Koff beer, and it was a contest, you had to win to get in, sorta like those Molson Canadian Rocks gigs I guess.

Win to get in, huh?

When I got to Helsinki I sent out a barrage of emails to managers, agents and musicians explaining my position as a writer for a Canadian music website and finally a few days ago one of the managers wrote back telling me I was on the guest list.

Tavastia was lit up with spotlights when I arrived, the Koff racecar was parked outside and staff members were checking names off of lists and handing out lanniers and beer tickets. Though it's Finand's premier rock club, hosting major acts such as Fifty Cent, it's not that big, perhaps with a capacity of say 600, tops. The main floor was split into two sections, one side with the stage and the other with a large bar. The stage side had a small balcony and two smaller bars, but the majority of the drinks being served this night were by girls manning tubs of Koff, which tastes like watered down Molson Export. The stage itself was of a respectable size, with totally pro lighting and really good sound. I had a couple of beers and before you know it up came the first act of the night, The Flaming Sideburns. An energetic five piece playing straight ahead rock & roll, it wasn't long before the singer had doffed his top showing off his heavy tattoo work. The band almost sounded like a bit Stones-ish with power chords, with the singer sounding like a tip of the hat to Steven Tyler without the range. Every song was sung in English (as it would be with every band) and the crowd was digging it. It was the kind of stuff you could be singing along to halfway through on a first time listen. It was standard rock but they drew from enough sources that it wasn't at all repetitive, and after 45 minutes they were done for the night.

At the break I wandered up to the stage and spoke to some guys dressed in Hellacopters t-shirts. They were from midway up the country and had lucked into the tickets. Calling it a "miracle" the two young lads have seen these bands before and love them to death. They make at least one annual pilgrimage from their three-hours-of-daylight-in-the-winter hometown of 35,000 to Helsinki to hear live music and they were ecstatic to be at the show.

The Soundtrack Of Our Lives was up next, and like the other bands at this show this would be my first time hearing them, though I've certainly heard of them. Definitely bottom rung of the energy ladder tonight they made up for it with the cleverness of their lyrics ("Why do you think you are"), which was a refreshing change from the first act. They debuted a new song which they suspect will be on the next album (and I do mean album; at the merch table there were hardly any cd's as most recordings available were on vinyl). It was the first time I've seen a guy on stage wear a scarf. I don't know why I find that curious. It took until near the end of their hour-long set for the band to grow on me, but really I don't know what it is you folks are going on about with this band, they were certainly nothing to write home about (despite the fact that I'm doing so now).

At the next setbreak I encountered a fun marketing gimmick on my way back from the bathroom; a remote controlled refridgerator. I was walking along and a fridge went by me. I stopped and stared and the fridge turned around, approached me and stopped. I opened him up (I don't know why I think of him as a 'him') and he was full of Koff, so I grabbed one. I soon saw his controller who grabbed my last beer ticket from me. I'd love to have one of these things to follow me around. If I get rich it's high up on the priority list. I sat on the steps leading up to the balcony and struck up a conversation with a girl. She was from a town of 200 people (I guess this was a national contest) but had lived in the US as an exchange student ten years ago. Curiously she said she was anxious to go there again to see how much the country and her host family had changed. I wonder if she would notice any change at all? Anyways, she was mad about the final band of the night, The Hellacopters.

The guys came on and played ultra high energy guitar screaming balls to the walls cock rock. I grabbed a Staropramen (wasn't gonna drink any more of that Koff if it wasn't free) and gave them about 25 minutes before I left. They were really really good at what they were doing, but I just wasn't into it at the time, which I feel bad about as it was their management that had scored me into the show in the first place. I was tired, I had to get up at 3:30am for my flight, and they were a bit too screamy for my current state of mind. The guitar players were excellent, no doubt about that, but after a second Staropramen I booked it and got a cab.

Overall I enjoyed the Flaming Sideburns the best, but it all sounded familiar, in that unlike the rock scene I encountered in Norway this seemed aimed at the American market and as such harkened to it without really adding to the genre. All in all it was a great way to spend my final evening of this trip. Plus I had toast this morning.

As it was a Sunday the buses had stopped running so I had to take a cab back to the hotel, arriving around 1:30. I had arranged a cab to arrive at 4am to take me to the airport and I debated staying awake for the two hours to ensure I wouldn't sleep through it and fell asleep while I was trying to decide. I was dreaming about coming home so I jumped out of bed the second the alarm went off after all, and when I got downstairs a van was waiting. We got the bike in no problem and off to the airport we went. Giddy with lack of sleep I thought The Hellacopters were in front of me in line at the check in, but it was actually a band called Husky Rescue, on their way for their second tour of the US in two months. They played Lollapalooza last time and would be doing Austin City Limits this time around. I was too sleepy to be impressed, but we talked venues on the northeast for a while.

Flew to Amsterdam and was damned disappointed that I didn't have at least a day to check out the city and hopefully visit with Shainhouse who's living there (next time my man), and encountered the heaviest security I've seen at an airport entering my gate to fly to Newark, which is to be expected I guess with the current climate in aviation.

I'm now well beyond the halfway point in my twenty hour transit home (flying over Newfoundland right now), and I'm really looking forward to getting there. Goethe said that until one learns about other countries they remain ignorant of their own (or something to that effect), and while this trip has strengthened my love for Canada it has also humbled my opinion of it. Canada is my home but the world is my church.

I've had a great time these last five or so weeks, thanks for coming along.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[Davey Boy 2.0]

Thanks for the entertainment CC, I can't wait for your next trip

[AD]

Giddy with lack of sleep I thought The Hellacopters were in front of me in line at the check in, but it was actually a band called Husky Rescue, on their way for their second tour of the US in two months. They played Lollapalooza last time and would be doing Austin City Limits this time around. I was too sleepy to be impressed, but we talked venues on the northeast for a while.

I like Husky Rescue, they're interesting. They did a session for Minnesota Public Radio in the spring I think, you can listen here

They got good reviews at Lollapalooza, and are playing the Horseshoe on September 11.

Awesome reads Todd, I've enjoyed every word you wrote.

AD

[Ms.Huxtable]

I've enjoyed every word you wrote.

Dito. Every single word. I hate coming to the end of a good read but the fact that we'll be bumping into each other soon is more than I usually get from my favorite characters. Welcome home!

[kookycanooky]

Thanks todd! welcome back

[TheGoodRev]

Indeed, welcome home my good man. 'Twas a fine read, front to back. I too enjoyed being along for the ride.

[lara]

Much enjoyed the read Todd!

Welcome home

[phorbesie]

i got 2 postcards today!

looks nice.

tis good to have you home velvet!

[ollie]

Welcome back Todd! I feel like I've seen a little bit more of the world.

[timouse]

okay, who wants to chip in to send todd around the world so that we can all live vicariously thorough him?

you are an excellent travel writer...more please

[Velvet]

I'll second that idea!

[Im going home Donny]

welcome home buddy.